2014
“A bit of advice given to a young Native American at the time of his initiation: As you go the way of life, you will see a great chasm. Jump. It is not as wide as you think.” ~ Joseph Campbell, ... We have jumped.
As the countdown continues we have begun to wax a bit nostalgic. Even though, as I said before, we don’t tend to look back too much, it has been difficult to not to take notice of the lasts and firsts. For example, last night we had a wonderful dinner with some dear friends, fellow travelers all. While the notion of a last dinner together never occurred to us, we did take notice that it was the last Saturday night we would spend in this country for quite some time to come.
Well, it is now T-10 days. We fly out August 15th. Are we ready? Yes and no. We finally worked out a plan for the cars. Jeannie's is sold and…
Ah, North Carolina, especially the western mountains. Cool, moist and green. This third leg of our pre-European tour was to the Asheville area of North Carolina to spend time with friends from junior college days and their significant others, and some former neighbors. Of course, both of the guys are named Mark. The best thing about good friends is that regardless of the amount of time that has passed, you pick up where you left off. So it was with the friends on this trip.
Singing frogs rejoice in the joy of the day’s rain. Cool mountain evening. Night in the mountains, sitting in the evening air fireflies dance about. Then, the next day on the trails ... the Fungi!
Architect Frank Lloyd Wright employed a principle he called “compress and release”. Creating a small space through which one must pass before reaching a larger space, Wright created a sense of tension, followed by a feeling of freedom One author described it as “Sometimes, when we are comfortable in our surroundings, we are not particularly aware of them—it is only when we are made to feel slightly uncomfortable that our senses are peaked enough to truly notice the environment that we are standing in, motivating us to move.” So, we began moving in a rather big way.
We traveled to Sheboygan, Wisconsin to visit Jeannie’s side of the family. Though technically they are her relatives, I have always been treated as one of the family, and in…
Jeannie and I were in Texas to visit family when she fell and broke her wrist. We originally were to have all gotten together south of Saint Augustine in the same condominium that my parents had rented every summer for several years. Several generations of immediate family and relatives would gather at the “Four Winds” condos for a week of sun, fun, food, beach, pool, and fellowship. I always referred to it as FooBeach.
There are adventures that you choose, and there are adventures that are forced upon you. We have been in Texas for the last few days near Austin, in the town of Round Rock enjoying a long overdue visit with family. Today as we were hiking a rather friendly, though rocky trail with my brother Mike and his wife Kathy, Jeannie slipped on an algae-covered rock as we crossed a dry-ish creek bed. To make a long story short, she broke her wrist. When the x-ray technician says “You really did it good,” you know it’s not really good.
The wood floors whisper underfoot as I wander the house, alone, for the last time. The furniture has been sold or taken to storage, there is no art on the walls, no sound but the air conditioner. From room to room memories waft about, reminding me of so many good times. We haven’t shed tears over this departure; we try not to look behind us, rather ahead. Just as the house before the fire was forgotten long ago, we let the importance of the experience have its profound and lasting positive effect on us – and we move forward.
... to write. The house is, once again, empty. Surreal, but ... ONWARD! ... yet still ... .
A great friend has made me peanut butter pies for my birthday or many years. Now, these are not ordinary peanut butter pies, they are not healthy, but they are exceptionally de-e-e-e-licious. They freeze well and it does not diminish the deliciousness. We woke up for the last time in our house, early as usual, made some instant coffee and pulled our last two slices of peanut butter pie from the freezer, and had breakfast in bed. What a treat, and as the sugar and caffeine kicked in, the packing resumed with a vengeance. The movers will arrive soon.
We were in Miami the other night. The next day we applied for our French long-stay visa. For some reason we kind of had pre-test jitters, even though it is merely a bureaucratic formality. The paperwork had been checked multiple times, multiple copies had been made, and we even had copies of documents we probably didn’t need, but … just in case.
As part of our quest to simplify and downsize, we are trying to become paperless. Though we’ve heard that’s a goal of many businesses, it’s rarely achieved. Our incoming paper stream has been greatly reduced as we’ve opted for electronic statements. So, much of our accumulated paper is from prior years. I don’t know why I’ve felt the need to hang on to the last paper statement, even when it is from years ago. I guess they give me some form of security, in case the internet disappears one day.
I feel a special responsibility for things that come into my possession that have had great meaning to someone. They are a special connection to the past, just as the Rosetta stone, or the megaliths of Stonehenge, or my father’s High School yearbook. So too, was Grandma Alexander’s accordion. While she was not a blood relative of Jeannie’s family, she was Granddad’s second wife, and she was loved by us all without reservation. We, by chance, came to possess her accordion.
Dear reader, this blog isn’t just for you. This blog is MY journal of the experience of this craziness we have embarked upon. If it were Jeannie’s journal it would be a spreadsheet complete with pivot tables. And she does really GREAT pivot tables, but hardly as riveting as my inspired prose. You will be subjected to a bunch of preliminary preparation stuff and philosophical introspection. And that is one of the reasons for keeping this journal. We will be able to come back here and remember the anguish of those stupid decisions.
Do you remember Tetris the computer game from the mid-80s? The objective of the game was to maneuver four-square shapes, as they cascaded down the playing field, by moving each one sideways and rotating it, with the aim of creating a horizontal line of ten blocks without gaps. Our Slow Nomads adventure (and life in general) is much like that game. Unknown things and occurrences appear without our control and we nudge and rotate them so that they all fit together nicely into an entire row and then they disappears. Of course, it doesn’t always work that way.
I have always said that there are three kinds of things: - Things you have to do, - Things you need to do, - Things you want to do. I generally do the things that I have to do, then I do the things I want to do. I ignore the things that I need to do because they will eventually become things that I have to do and will get done, or rarely, they become things I want to do and they get done. And sometimes they just go away.
The garage sales are over, and trips to take items to Goodwill and the county recycling center have finally slowed to a trickle. The house goes on the market in a few days, and we have arranged the first three months apartments in France. It looks as if this is really happening. But then, at the peak of the chaos, Jeannie’s father Gene, at 85 had a bout with appendicitis. That had us deeply concerned and running back and forth to Tampa to coordinate his care with siblings.
Getting rid of certain things marks the end of one era and the start of another. Yet somewhere inside a small voice reminds me of my mortality. It reminds me that now is the time. Where is that garbage can? It is important to choose wisely. Take tools for example. Once we return and are setting up a small apartment, will I ever need my hoe or circular saw again? When we are renting will I need to have my tap and die set, or the 10-foot-long dryer vent cleaner brush?
Well, the house hasn’t sold yet, in fact it isn’t even on the market; but we thought we’d better not wait to book an apartment in France – as desirable places get leased early. Once we decided to make our first move in August, we realized that the south of France is a very popular destination in the summer. We are not fans of crowds so we looked at the map and decided on the town of Rennes, in the Brittany (northwest) region of France, to be our starting point.
We had never been to the Everglades. Rivers and swamps were nothing new to us as we have canoed northern and central Florida for many years, but we had never been to the Everglades. Of course, having to earn a living does get in the way of having fun, but we had traveled many other places, yet we had never been to the Everglades. So, since our slow nomadic travels would likely put off getting to the ‘Glades even further into the future, now needed to be the time.
Shortly after our return from Montpellier, a long-time friend passed away after an extended illness. So when we wonder if this is the right time to dramatically change our lives, and experience the travels we desire we know we should not delay. We will move forward, maybe even pick up the pace. We have been so very fortunate, having happy lives filled with good friends and loving family, and we know that now is not the time to slow down. If our journey is cut short, we will have no regrets.
When we first selected Montpellier as the starting point for our nomadic life, I assumed we would likely see it after we’d sold our house, put things in storage, and booked our one way ticket. But then Chris suggested that we should probably check it out just to get a taste of life there, to determine if it would work for us. Having just returned from 10 days in an apartment there, our decision is a resounding Yes!
Having successfully negotiated the train to Aix-en-Provence just a day or two ago, we wanted to get a good view of the Mediterranean, and decided to go a bit further afield than the local beaches that are only a few kilometers away, and Sete, a large fishing port, would make for a good day trip.
